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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Fwhat would her be?" asked Ted, with a face in which there might be read such a compound of cunning, vacuity, and ferocity as could rarely be witnessed in the same countenance. "Can you come down to me to-night?" "No; I'll be busy." "Where are you at work now?" "In Glendearg, above." "Well, then, if you can't come to me, I must only go to you. Will you be there tonight?
Fwhy shud I kape a dog an' du me own barkin'? An' thin he'll think betther av ut an' chunt 'Poppycock, all poppycock! . . . As you were, Sarjint' an' thin he'll call in Kilbride. Eh! fwhat yez laughin' at, yeh fules?" he queried irritably.
He strook him! screeches out Scrub Greene, who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the shoutin'. "'Peg out that man! sez me orf'cer bhoy, niver losin' his timper; an' the non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side av Peg Barney. "I cud see that the draf' was comin' roun'. The men stud not knowin' fwhat to do. "'Get to your tents! sez me orf'cer bhoy.
Der jungere Uhlanen Sit round mit open mouth While Breitmann tell dem stories Of fightin' in the South; Und gif dem moral lessons, How before der battle pops, Take a little prayer to Himmel Und a goot long drink of Schnapps. Hans Breitmann's Ballads. "Mary, Mother av Mercy, fwhat the divil possist us to take an' kepe this melancolius counthry? Answer me that, sorr."
"An' fwhat has happened, ye lumberin' child av calamity, that you're lowing like a cow-calf at the back av the pasture, an' suggestin' invidious excuses for the man Stanley's goin' to kill. Ye'll have to wait another hour yet, little man. Spit it out, Jock, an' bellow melojus to the moon. It takes an earthquake or a bullet graze to fetch aught out av you. Discourse, Don Juan!
We hadn't rowled more than twinty bowlders, an' the Paythans was beginnin' to swear tremenjus, whin the little orf'cer bhoy av the Tyrone shqueaks out acrost the valley: "Fwhat the devil an' all are you doin', shpoilin' the fun for my men? Do ye not see they'll stand?" "Faith, that's a rare pluckt wan!" sez Crook. "Niver mind the rocks, men. Come along down an' take tay wid thim!"
'A Staff Orf'cer man, clean as a new rifle, rides up an' sez: "What damned scarecrows are you?" "A comp'ny av Her Majesty's Black Tyrone an' wan av the Ould Rig'mint," sez Crook very quiet, givin' our visitors the flure as 'twas. "Oh!" sez the Staff Orf'cer; "did you dislodge that Reserve?" "No!" sez Crook, an' the Tyrone laughed. "Thin fwhat the divil have ye done?"
"'Faith you've larnt the half av your lesson, sorr, sez I, 'but av you shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim in-ship at all, at all. Or there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you do. "'Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart up, I tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf' in Egypt." "What was that, Mulvaney?" said I.
Thin I saw ut come out in the actin' fwhat I niver saw before, an' that was that he was no gentleman.
As they seated themselves Pat regarded the surveyor with pleased interest. "Well, well! 'tis a most unexpected worrld. Av 'twas the owld divil himsilf that clapped his hand on me arm I'd be no more surprised than I was to see the lad here. Tell us, me bhoy, fwhat 'tis that's brung ye here."
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